These Twisted Thoughts of Mine
by PeanutNinja
Summary: 'I lie awake wondering how you would react to finding out that a mudblood loves you.  That a dirty magic stealer who beat your son in all those tests loves you, would it make you sick' Hermione reflects on her feelings for Narcissa.


**A/N: Ok so this is my first attempt at a Hermione/Narcissa oneshot, I apologise for any spelling and or grammar mistakes. Feedback would be very much appreciated as I'm not really sure what to make of this one. Hope you enjoy. :)  
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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters they belong ot JK Rowling, but I do have the books! :)**

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I saw you awhile ago, in Diagon Alley. You look older now, defeated, tired and these revelations shock me to my core yet they shouldn't. You were looking over at me from Gringotts, trying to be subtle in your movements, trying to be a ghost. I wanted to tell you that you were being subtle, no one else had noticed you, just me and I'm obsessive.  
But you don't know that.  
I'm glad you don't know that.  
Sometimes - like tonight for example - I lie awake wondering how you would react to finding out that a mudblood loves you. That a dirty magic stealer who beat your son in all those tests _loves _you, would it make you sick? Would it make you angry? Would you want to kill me? I never put you down as the killing type, except of course if it was for your family, but that's wishful thinking isn't it? That's my image of you that's probably so far from the truth that it's like… It's like seeing Bellatrix as sane and rational.

My image of you.  
That sounds so utterly beautiful and so completely twisted in my head. I suppose though I'll never get the chance to know you so all I've got is my image; I can imagine that you never wanted to be a death eater, I can imagine that maybe you don't even love your husband, I can imagine that perhaps you don't hate all of us with 'dirty' blood. But you returning this love? That's too far even for my sick delusions. Although could I call it love really? Obsession based on an image of a woman who will never be mine, a woman who hates me? It isn't love, I don't even know what love is I mean as far as I'm concerned love could be wanting to be close to someone in a friendly way, of liking their company, of liking them being with you. Maybe I know that isn't what love is; caring for someone in a friendly way, although I'm pretty sure it isn't just pure, sexual desire and after all, how do I know I really do care for you at all? That your not just some fantasy that's entered my head to muck things up and cause mayhem, that if I was actually in front of you with the chance to kiss you I would like it? Or would I be disgusted? You know what sucks? I can't answer these questions, I don't have the means to answer them.

I would think you are - at the very least - a nice person, after all Harry told me of what you did to save Draco so there must be a niceness deep down, even if it is covered by a malignant exterior. Is it sad that sometimes I lie awake and wonder that if I was of pure blood that you may consider me? That at the very least thoughts of me would enter your head even of only for a second, and for that one second I wouldn't be seen as inferior I'd be seen as an equal. But at the end of it all it's just a silly, childlike dream. I work with Draco now in the Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror, we take cases together sometimes. I wonder if he ever mentions me to you, I wonder that - if hypothetically he does - what your reactions would be. And in a way I'm rather glad you do not know me, I'm sure the depth of this obsession, the crush, this sick twisted thing would scare you quite possibly to death, but that's too dramatic. At least it would make me good for something though. The thing is it's getting harder to wait and see, all my friends are married or are getting married and believe me the last thing I want is to waste my life waiting for a woman I do not love or will never be with. However this seems to be the way it's turning out.  
It isn't fair though!  
_This_ isn't fair! This… inner turmoil was supposed to be reserved for my teenage years alone, I was supposed to get over this stage of having crushes on people. Well, if you're going to be wrong, you may as well be dead wrong.

I'm in a meeting right now, it's cold and I cross my arms to keep warm. I've gone the whole day on my dreams, I'm supposed to be listening to what my boss is telling me but instead I'm thinking about you. You are constantly on my mind like a record stuck on repeat and part of me is wondering if I've been cursed to slowly go insane with this, that someone has intended this so that the madness will kill me. It's highly unlikely though, I mean surely Avada Kedavera would be sufficient, it makes a good day dream though. With a few more idle fantasies the meeting is over and I can return to my office, only to be greeted with dinner date invitations from men I've met at various balls. Of course they'll all be declined unless I see potential but then all I see is you, each flirty look they give me, winking as though their eye suffers some sort of impulsive paroxysm wears my patience down into dust and I never get back to them. My friends think its strange and I'd never tell them, they'd go mental and somehow it would get to the press. I don't care how accepting the wizarding world is the last thing I want is for the Daily Prophet to claim I'm a lesbian. I have nothing against lesbians, that would be completely stupid considering my predicament, but seeing as I'm not sure what I want I'd hardly find it appropriate. And it's my manner, right there in the last thought that reminds me of you, or how I imagine you would be, strict but with and air of common sense around the strictness.

And when I get back to my office the never failing list of invitations greet me, Malfoy smirks "Geez Granger who would have thought you to be this popular" he's joking of course  
"Piss off Malfoy" I reply  
"At this rate I'm going to have to ask you out"  
"In your dreams perhaps" I smile,  
"In all seriousness though my mother wishes to meet you" he says, his voice containing no joke whatsoever. For a fraction of a second I freeze, then turn to look at him and hope to hell that he didn't notice and just said what I thought he just said.  
"Why?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice level  
"She wants to meet you to apologise for what my aunt did" he mutters awkwardly, the joking atmosphere very much dead  
"Tell her she doesn't have to and that it wasn't her fault"  
"Well that and she wants to meet you as I'm constantly complaining about you" I raise an eyebrow the seriousness gone  
"Complaining about me?" I ask surprised, he grins sheepishly  
"Well not complaining exactly, just... moaning about you're... know-it-all-ness" he says awkwardly  
"Keep digging Malfoy" I say grinning and lean back in my chair  
"Although she does want to see you, it's been awhile since she's met someone who she can have an intellectual conversation with" I shrug  
"Alright" his face brightens  
"Really?"  
"Why not, I'm free on Saturday" I reply nonchalantly yet my heart is beating so fast it's almost one continuous noise,  
"Great, you want a cup of tea or anything?" he asks  
"It's odd that you're offering tea when your sitting in my office" he blushes slightly "Go make it" and I watch as he leaves the room, its a common rule in the ministry that if you want coffee or tea your have to make it the muggle way. It's an amusing rule, especially when you watch Malfoy have to wait in line to fill a kettle up when he misses his morning coffee.

It's not long though in the absence when my mind processes what he just said, you want to see me. I know that at this point I need to restrain any thoughts that enter my head yet when I close my eyes all I can imagine is your lips touching mine, your body lying next to mine. All I can do is imagine myself next to you and imagine is as far as it can go, I know when I see you I'll have to fight my thoughts and see you as you are.

I don't think I want to.

When I stand by my bedroom window finishing a cigarette all I can think of is my dreams and I swear I can see you in my room smiling at me, inviting me to bed. Yet when I breathe the smoke out I remember you aren't here and that the Narcissa standing in my room has no more substance than the smoke that still lingers in the air. The real you is miles away in a cold dungeon of a manor you call home. However I don't feel like facing sense tonight, the know-it-all wants a break wants to be ignorant for once. So I lie down next to my image of you, you stroke my hair and whisper sweet words in my ear, wrap your warm arms around me. Your coquettish behaviour I've had to endure with many men is not unwanted. And for a second I let myself believe you really are here. For a second you really do love me. For one second I see that we really have forever.

But it's a fast second, a precarious belief and Reality jolts me awake.

I'm cold, alone, unrequited in love and aging.


End file.
